


We'll Pass it On To You (We'll Give the World To You)

by verbaepulchellae



Series: Blow Us All Away [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, I'm talking a shameful amount of Fluff, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 04:19:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6104713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbaepulchellae/pseuds/verbaepulchellae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first she thinks it’s the rain that wakes her, whipping against the thatched roof, or the roll of the thunder, distant and soft. But then Li’l Mooch kicks again, hard, right in her kidney and Clarke sucks in a breath and rubs at her stomach gently, trying to soothe the baby’s movements. Beside her, Bellamy inhales softly as he comes awake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Pass it On To You (We'll Give the World To You)

**Author's Note:**

> Just something light to pass the time until all the angst gets better. But who are we kidding? This is the 100, it's always going to be angsty.

At first she thinks it’s the rain that wakes her, whipping against the thatched roof, or the roll of the thunder, distant and soft. But then Li’l Mooch kicks again, hard, right in her kidney and Clarke sucks in a breath and rubs at her stomach gently, trying to soothe the baby’s movements. Beside her, Bellamy inhales softly as he comes awake, hands already reaching for her before he’s even conscious. Clarke smiles up at the darkness of their ceiling. Of course Bellamy’s too attuned to her to keep sleeping when Clarke’s awake.

“Hey,” he says, soft and gruff. “Hey, you ok?”

Clarke turns her head on the pillow and smiles at him. He looks groggy, a little sleep dazed, his expression soft but alert and he smiles back at her, just a twitch of his lips. 

“Just Mooch,” Clarke tells him. “Awake and squalling.” 

“Hmm,” Bellamy hums and his hand joins hers on her stomach, stroking across her round abdomen. Clarke’s stomach is big now, eight months pregnant. 

Bellamy’s always had a thing about her belly, the soft, vulnerable parts of her. Clarke always chocked it up to his immediate, protective nature, that whenever he has a chance, he touches her there, just a hand resting low on her belly when they lie in bed and talk at night, thumbing shapes and little half designs into her skin. She’s always teased him about it, but she knows it’s his private way of affirming she’s there with him, safe and whole and his. When she got pregnant, Bellamy only touched her more.

Mooch flails an arm, and Bellamy’s hand stills as he feels it. Watching his face in the darkness, Clarke see’s Bellamy’s smile grow. “Hey Mooch,” Bellamy whispers, his thumb caressing her skin, “you gotta stop beating up on your mom. She’s the one who’s patiently letting you freeload until you’re ready to come out here. You gotta give her some respect.”

Clarke snorts. “Yeah, but once you’re born, Mooch, it’s straight to work. Gotta earn your keep.” Bellamy chuckles and noses at her temple, lips grazing her cheek bone. 

“I think there’s probably some guard rotations she can pick up,” Bellamy says thoughtfully, nuzzling his nose against her cheek until Clarke turns her head to kiss him, slow and sweet, her fingers interlacing with his on her stomach.

“Or I could find him a shift in Medical,” Clarke says just as sincerely and Bellamy nods thoughtfully. 

“Why not both?” He teases and kisses her again. Mooch moves under their hands and they both grin into each other’s mouths. 

Bellamy breaks the kiss with a quick peck on her lips, and then because he’s a sap, a kiss on her nose and chin, before he slides down the bed so that he’s level with her stomach and presses his face into it. “I’m just kidding, Mooch,” Bellamy says into her skin and Clarke smiles up into the darkness, her fingers tangling in his hair. “You’re going to be just as much a spoiled princess as your mom was.”

“Still am,” Clarke says softly and Bellamy smiles against her skin. 

“That’s right, I’ll spoil you both rotten,” Bellamy promises the baby inside her. 

“And you’ll actually have a name,” Clarke whispers. They both have their favorites, whether Mooch turns out to be a boy or a girl. But until they can hold Mooch in their arms, see his or her small face and tiny fingers, Octavia’s affectionate nickname for the baby sticks easily. 

Mooch squirms inside her and Clarke sighs. “I don’t think Mooch is going to let me get much sleep right now.”

“Already a brat,” Bellamy whispers, secretive and proud, to her stomach and then kneels up and catches Clarke’s hands, helping her sit up as well. Bellamy pulls on a shirt and drapes a shawl around Clarke’s shoulders, crossing it closed over her belly. They stand in the doorway of the small home they built together, letting the summer rain drip down the eves and the fresh night air wash over them as they watch the storm pass. Clarke leans her head back into Bellamy’s shoulder and Mooch kicks under their hands, and Clarke knows that this what they fell to Earth for. For this, she would have fallen a thousand times over.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is, of course, from "Dear Theodosia" by the amazing Lin-Manuel Miranda,
> 
> Come hang with me on [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/verbam)


End file.
